


not a bad call

by nightswatch



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Phone Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-31
Updated: 2015-08-31
Packaged: 2018-04-18 08:01:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4698380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightswatch/pseuds/nightswatch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire works as a phone sex operator and has a regular caller that he talks to about all kinds of things. When they run into each other at a reunion, it turns out that Grantaire has known that caller for a while.</p>
            </blockquote>





	not a bad call

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lor/gifts).



> Written for the giveaway I did on my [writing blog](http://musains.tumblr.com/).
> 
> [lotaire](http://lotaire.tumblr.com/) asked for a fic in which Grantaire is a phone sex operator and Combeferre is one of his regular callers and where they eventually meet again at a reunion.

Grantaire put down his phone with a sigh and unmuted his TV. It wasn’t like this job was exhausting or anything. At this point he barely had to think about what to say anymore. He’d been doing it for years now and it paid well enough for Grantaire to want to stick with it. He also worked at a café; he usually did shifts during the day and at night he took on calls for a phone sex hotline. It wasn’t anything he’d put on his resume, to be quite honest, and it had started out as a joke, actually.

See, Grantaire had always liked to boast about his sexual adventures and escapades. He did regret that now, because one hundred percent of those stories had been completely made up. Grantaire was twenty-six and he’d never slept with anyone. He’d come pretty close a couple of times, but it was really all just talk. Grantaire knew how to talk. And sometime during his second year at university he’d been at a party and someone had said that he’d get loads of money for phone sex and it had been a joke, nothing more, but Grantaire had decided to look into it.

And now here he was with his two shitty jobs. Although the job at the phone sex hotline was pretty easy. In the beginning he’d had no idea what to say to the people who called, but he’d figured it out soon enough and t hadn’t taken too long until he’d had some regulars who called several times a week.

Grantaire didn’t work on as many days as he had back in the day, but he often worked nights on weekends. Although sometimes he’d really rather watch a movie than deal with people who had, well, very _specific_ requests. Grantaire had barely put down the phone when it already started ringing again.

He muted the TV and picked up. “Hello, this is R.” He probably could have gone with Grantaire from the start and no one would have ever figured out that it was him. Now he was stuck with the nickname. Whoever was calling him was a little shy apparently. “Hello,” Grantaire said again, “anyone there?”

Someone cleared their throat on the other end of the line. “Yes, um... hello.” It was a guy. Grantaire mostly talked to guys, actually. And it seemed that he was a first time caller.

Grantaire decided to go with being casual for now. “Hey. What’s your name?”

“I’m...” His caller hesitated for a moment, obviously not sure whether or not to tell him his real name.

“It’s alright, I won’t tell anyone. Anyway, I’ll never know if you told me the right name. You could be using your next door neighbor’s name for all I know.”

The guy laughed. “Right, well, call me Combeferre.” And that was so not his real name. Maybe Grantaire had given him an idea and that was actually his neighbor’s last name. Well, Grantaire didn’t give much of a shit anyway.

“Combeferre, that’s quite a mouthful, but I can work with that.” Grantaire leaned back, his feet propped up on his coffee table. “So, what can I do for you?”

“Well, I...” Combeferre took a deep breath. “I’ve never done this before, my friend suggested it because I’m always so busy and I’ve been thinking about it for a while, for about three weeks, to be exact. When they asked me who I wanted to talk to I almost hung up because I had no idea what to say. And you probably don’t care about any of that.”

“Hey, it’s alright, no worries. And it’s okay to be nervous, a lot of people are when they call for the first time.” Grantaire got tons of first time callers. Apparently he handled them pretty well. “Why don’t you tell me what you like?”

“I like a lot of things, really,” Combeferre said. He paused. “Oh, you mean...”

Grantaire bit down on his bottom lip to keep himself from laughing. “We can also talk about your hobbies if that’s what you prefer.” One guy had once told him about the breakup he’d just gone through. For over an hour. Grantaire didn’t care much, he got paid either way.

“No, it’s... well, is this how this usually goes?”

“Nah, I mean, some people just straight up tell me what they want me to do and others don’t really care. It’s up to you.” Some hung up in the middle of the call and Grantaire never heard from them again. But he shouldn’t mention that, because it was in his best interest to keep Combeferre on the line.

Combeferre hummed lowly, obviously still not sure what to ask of Grantaire.

“Tell me, Combeferre,” Grantaire said lightly, “are you wearing clothes right now?”

“I, um, yes. I am.”

“Why don’t you take those off?”

“Alright,” Combeferre said and Grantaire could hear the rustle of clothes. A moment later Combeferre was back. “So...”

 _So_ , Grantaire thought. He was pretty good at figuring out what people wanted, even if they were too scared or embarrassed to say it out loud, but he still couldn’t tell what sort of expectations Combeferre had. A lot of guys just wanted to be told how great they were and how hard Grantaire was for them, but he felt like that might be the wrong approach right now.

“Touch yourself for me, Combeferre,” Grantaire said eventually. That pretty much _always_ worked. Grantaire smirked when he heard a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line. “That’s good, now, tell me what would you want me to do to you if I was there? Suck you off? Fuck you? Would you want to fuck me? I’d let you.”

Combeferre whimpered quietly and Grantaire had long since passed the point where that kind of thing made him feel anything, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t feel some sense of pride because he was doing his job well.

“Is that what you want?” Grantaire asked lowly. “Do you wish you could fuck me?”

“I...” Combeferre let out a muffled moan. “Yes,” he finally said, quietly, like he was ashamed to admit it.

“We’d have such a good time together. You could do whatever you want with me,” Grantaire said. He flicked a pizza crumb off his shirt. “Anything at all.”

Now he just needed to keep talking. Grantaire did it almost automatically. He often did other stuff while he was on the phone – sometimes he made dinner, sometimes he dusted off his shelves – it worked pretty well as long as whatever he was doing wasn’t too loud.

“You’d feel so good inside me,” Grantaire said lowly. He was pretty good at the fake moaning now as well, although that had taken him a while. Occasionally he was worried that his neighbors might hear, but so far there had been no indication whatsoever that anyone had overheard one of his phone calls. “So good, Combeferre. Would you be rough with me or would you go slow, draw it out?”

“I...” And that was pretty much all that Combeferre had to say on that matter because he trailed off into another groan.

Grantaire kept talking. Sometimes all he had to do was to put a nice little fantasy in his caller’s head and that was it, easy as that. He’d be able to go back to that shitty movie soon, maybe he’d get himself some chocolate chip cookies, because he was trying to take a break from the wine. It wasn’t working very well, but still.

His now pretty one-sided conversation with Combeferre really wasn’t going to take much longer, Grantaire could tell. He was panting, very obviously trying to keep his moans quiet – maybe he had a roommate, or just really nosy neighbors.

Combeferre, after he’d come, didn’t hang up but cleared his throat. “Thank you.”

This time Grantaire couldn’t suppress a laugh. “You’re very welcome.”

“People don’t usually say thank you, do they?”

“Not usually, no,” Grantaire said. “But hey, I do appreciate it, it’s nice to know that you enjoyed yourself.”

“Well, have a good evening,” Combeferre said. He still sounded out of breath.

“You, too,” Grantaire said and then Combeferre finally hung up. Grantaire managed to watch that movie for about fifteen minutes before his phone started ringing again.

About two weeks later, this time on Friday evening, late on Friday evening, Grantaire had Combeferre back on the line. He hadn’t really expected him to call again. To Grantaire it had seemed like Combeferre had just tried it out, simply because he’d been curious.

“You probably don’t remember me,” Combeferre said after he’d told Grantaire his name.

“Oh, I do remember, actually. You’re the guy who said thank you.”

Combeferre huffed out a laugh. “Yes, that was me. I was hoping you’d forgotten about that.”

“I can pretend that I’ve forgotten all about it,” Grantaire said.

“That’s, um... great customer service.” Combeferre laughed. “Anyway, could you...”

“Yes?”

“Could you do that same thing again that you did last time? Just tell me what...” Combeferre paused and even though Grantaire had no idea what he looked like, he could imagine him blushing. “In that case it’d be alright if you remembered.”

Grantaire really wished that all of his callers were that easy to please. He was almost hoping that Combeferre might become one of his regulars. And it seemed that he was lucky, because Combeferre rang again, two weeks later.

And Grantaire wasn’t even sure why, but he liked Combeferre. Well, as much as you could like someone you had professional one-sided phone sex with. But Combeferre had a nice voice and he was polite and whenever he made a request he added, “If that’s alright with you,” as if Grantaire wouldn’t say pretty much anything because he was _getting paid for this_.

“Can I ask you something?” Combeferre asked one time. Maybe it was his sixth or seventh call. Grantaire had lost count. Combeferre only called once every two or three weeks and it had definitely been months since his first call.

“Sure, but I can’t promise that you’ll get an answer.”

“Just out of curiosity,” Combeferre said, “how do you explain your job to, well, potential significant others?”

“To be honest, I haven’t had that sort of conversation in a long time.” To be extra honest, Grantaire hadn’t been in a relationship since his last year of high school. But Combeferre didn’t need to know that.

“I see,” Combeferre said. “I just thought... I mean, it must be a pretty strange conversation to have.”

“Yeah, I guess it’s not too much fun to explain to someone that you’re getting people off via telephone for money.”

Combeferre laughed. “Nice conversation topic for a first date.”

“Exactly,” Grantaire said. “I mean, I guess if I was in a relationship with someone I’d probably go find a different job, because I’d feel weird about it.” But it wasn’t like anyone wanted to date him anyway, so it didn’t concern him much.

“How does one even become a phone sex operator?”

“Oh, it’s long hard road, it involves a lot of studying, I had to take classes and there’s even a phone sex handbook.” Grantaire snorted. “Nah, actually you just have to be good at talking. Like, you can’t freeze when someone asks you to call them daddy.”

“You do that?”

“I usually do what I’m asked to do, you know?”

“But could you say no?”

“Yeah, we can have numbers blocked and stuff, but most of the time it’s cool.”

Combeferre hummed thoughtfully. “Sorry that I’m asking so many questions, but I never really thought about what this must be like for you and now I’m curious.”

“We’re cool as long as you don’t ask me where I live or something.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t.” Combeferre laughed. “I am sort of interested in how you got that job, though.”

So Grantaire told him the story of that party and about how he’d never found a job that paid as well as this one with his art degree and then they got caught up in talking about university and when they hung up they’d had an actual, real conversation, nothing more. And, well, that happened. But only occasionally, because it was a pretty expensive conversation.

The second time they started talking, not too long after, Grantaire eventually said, “You know what, I feel really bad that you have to pay money for this. I mean, we’re talking about _Lord of the Rings_ , no one should have to pay for that.” And Grantaire knew that he shouldn’t, he knew that this was a bad idea, but– “I could give you my number. If you want. Unless you’re super rich and don’t really care.”

“Sadly I am not super rich,” Combeferre said. “Well, if you don’t mind. But then you won’t get any money for it, will you?”

“No, but it’s alright. I mean, it’s possible that someone else will call. I’d have to hang up on you for a bit if that happens, but yeah...”

“Yeah, alright,” Combeferre said. “How about I just give you my number?”

Grantaire’s stomach did a bit of a somersault and he knew that he was in deep shit.

* * *

“I don’t even know why you want me to come with you so badly.”

“Because it’s gonna be _fuuun_ ,” Joly said and put an arm around Grantaire. “You like fun, don’t you?”

Grantaire sighed. That wasn’t the point. “Yeah, but it’s _your_ reunion.”

“So what? Bossuet’s coming too,” Joly said with a shrug.

“But Bossuet is your boyfriend.”

“Yeah, but you know everyone there anyway. I mean, you always went to all those parties with us and I’m pretty sure that they’ll remember you.”

Bossuet laughed. “Yeah, they’ll definitely remember that one time you fell asleep on a table and people played beer pong around you.”

“Great, thanks for reminding me of that.”

“It was an amazing night,” Bossuet said gravely, “or at least that’s what I would say if I could remember it, but Joly really likes to tell that beer pong story.”

Joly was still beaming when he pulled the door open for them. “This is going to be great.”

And Grantaire had to admit that Joly had been right. He did know tons of the people at the reunion. It was mostly faces and not names that he was able to recall – there was the guy who’d once given Grantaire a half-eaten burrito at three in the morning, and the girl who’d made out with Grantaire in a broom cupboard, and then there was also Joly’s hot friend who’ been _really_ into Star Wars. Well, that was the only thing that Grantaire remembered about him.

Joly seemed to have spotted him as well. “Oh my god, look who it is.”

“Combeferre, hey,” Bossuet waved at him and then dragged Joly and Grantaire over to him.

It was a good thing that Grantaire was being dragged, because he wasn’t sure if he’d been able to walk on his own. _Combeferre_. It would really be too much of a coincidence. There were other people who were called Combeferre and maybe the Combeferre that Grantaire had been talking to wasn’t even actually called Combeferre.

“Hey, it’s so good to see you again.”

And, okay, Grantaire knew that voice. Because it was a nice voice and it had etched itself into his memory. That was definitely _the_ Combeferre. And Grantaire really had no idea what to do, because Combeferre couldn’t know that it was him, he could never ever find out. So Grantaire had to go without talking all evening – or at least as long as they were around Combeferre.

“Combeferre, do you remember Grantaire?”

“Of course I do. Grantaire, how are you?”

“Good,” Grantaire only said. He really wanted to ask Combeferre how he was doing, but he also really needed to keep his mouth shut. Grantaire had told Joly and Bossuet that there was a certain caller that he talked to a lot, but he couldn’t tell them it was Combeferre.

Bossuet shot him a confused look, then he turned to Combeferre. “How’s everything going for you?”

Grantaire managed not to talk by shoving appetizers into his mouth, only nodding or shaking his head until Bossuet eventually pulled him aside and asked what the hell was wrong with him because Grantaire was literally always talking and he was apparently starting to get a little worried.

“It’s nothing,” Grantaire said with a shrug when Bossuet asked if he was alright, “I just have a bit of a headache.”

“Oh, do you need an aspirin?”

“No, it’s fine, don’t worry.”

“Well, let’s get you a glass of water. And, hey, at least you’re surrounded by doctors, right?” Bossuet said and pushed him back over to Joly, who was thankfully talking to someone else now.

Grantaire thought himself safe then. He talked to a bunch of people about the good old times, and stuffed his face with the free food so he wouldn’t get tempted by the free drinks. He did eventually, which was incidentally also when Combeferre snuck up on him.

“Hey... Grantaire, right? What have you been up to?”

“Nothing much,” Grantaire muttered into his drink. The _what about you_ was on the tip of his tongue, but he just couldn’t give himself away. The problems was that all Grantaire could think was, _I know what you sound like when you have an orgasm_. That paired with Combeferre’s smile and his hair and his _everything_ made Grantaire feel glad that he hadn’t decided to put on tight jeans.

“Okay,” Combeferre said, brows furrowed. He was obviously thinking that Grantaire was being rude as fuck and, well, that was definitely true.

It wasn’t like Grantaire wanted to be rude, but he didn’t have too many options. He could always make a quick escape and just go home. He probably should have done that the second he’d laid eyes on Combeferre.

“I’m sorry,” Grantaire said when Combeferre was about to turn away, “it’s just that you’re... I mean, I’m...”

And Combeferre seemed to recognize his voice now because his eyes went wide. “Oh, Grantaire... R, um, well, that makes sense now.” He laughed nervously. “It’s... good to see you.”

Grantaire bit his lip. “Yeah, I mean... to be honest, I didn’t even remember that I knew someone called Combeferre in university, so yeah. Sorry about just now, I wasn’t sure how you’d feel about running into me.”

“I don’t really mind, to be perfectly honest,” Combeferre said. He smiled at him. “How’s everything going?”

They ended up at a table in the back with a plate full of food between them and Grantaire didn’t ask Combeferre why he was talking to him when he was here to catch up with the people who’d actually been in his classes, because he loved talking to Combeferre and he was selfish enough not to want him to leave.

Joly and Bossuet both shot him a bunch of suggestive eyebrow wiggles in the course of the evening and Grantaire rolled his eyes at them in return, because they were just talking. There really was nothing more to it.

Except when they got up to leave because Joly was already half asleep with his head leaning against Bossuet’s shoulder, Combeferre said, “Would you maybe like to meet up sometime? For coffee or dinner maybe? I know this is not ideal, since I’m one of your customers and this might be awkward for you, but maybe you’d still consider it? I really do enjoy talking to you.”

“I... sure. Yes, absolutely. We can do that.”

“Really?” Combeferre grinned. “Well, I’ll text you, if that’s alright.”

“Sure, yeah,” Grantaire said. He grinned back at him. “You have my number.”

* * *

The only problem that Grantaire didn’t have now that he was dating Combeferre was that he already knew about Grantaire’s rather unconventional job. The problem he did have – or was sure he had – was that Combeferre likely had expectations.

They’d been out on about six dates if they didn’t count that one time they’d had coffee together when they’d run into each other at the Musain after Grantaire’s shift there. Anyway, they’d kissed, on Grantaire’s doorstep, on Combeferre’s couch, horizontally, at the movies, in front of the Musain, on Grantaire’s couch, also horizontally. Which was cool, really.

What bothered Grantaire was that he somehow had to explain to Combeferre that he was still a virgin even though he frequently had phone sex with myriads of people. And with Combeferre, obviously. And he wasn’t quite sure how Combeferre would react when Grantaire told him that he probably wasn’t as good at real sex as he was at pretend sex.

Still, Grantaire would have to bring it up at some point. Combeferre was the kind of person who liked to talk about things, who asked for permission.  They’d had a vague sort of talk about it a while ago – that they were both clean, that they both wanted this, but that they’d get to know each other a little bit better first. Grantaire had decided not to tell him then. He probably should have.

When Combeferre came over for a movie night and they started kissing somewhere halfway through _Pulp Fiction_ and all Grantaire could think about was that he needed to tell Combeferre, he eventually just blurted it out in between kisses. “I’ve never slept with anyone,” Grantaire said quickly and then hid his face behind his hands so he didn’t have to look at Combeferre. “I know it’s ridiculous and a little bit pathetic and I probably should have told you this a while ago.”

Combeferre sat back, taking Grantaire’s hands and pulling him into an upright position with him, then he paused the movie. “It’s alright and most definitely not pathetic.” Combeferre tilted his head. “I’d never push you into doing anything you don’t want to do if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“No, of course not. I just thought you might have expectations, you know, because of... my job.”

“I see,” Combeferre said. “I won’t lie, you did give the impression that you are... experienced.”

“It’s just talk, really,” Grantaire said, tugging his fingers through his hair. “It’s always been just talk, literally. I feel like I’ve been lying to you or something.”

“Don’t worry, it’s not a big deal,” Combeferre said and leaned in to give him a kiss. “We can take things slow if you want.”

“To be honest, at this point taking it slow is really the opposite of what I want,” Grantaire mumbled. “Unless that’s what you want. Because in that case it’s fine.”

Combeferre hummed and pulled him closer again, into his lap, slowly kissing down Grantaire’s neck. “No, it’s quite alright.”

“Quite alright, huh?” Grantaire asked. His stomach gave a twinge the way it always did when he was nervous. He could talk about sex alright, but the real thing seemed a little intimidating. Grantaire gave Combeferre a quick kiss; he knew that he was good at that at least. “So, do you want to... right now?”

“If you do,” Combeferre said. His fingers slowly wandered under Grantaire’s shirt. “Not on the couch, though.”

“Right, not on the couch...” Grantaire was already getting up, but Combeferre pulled him back down again. “What...?”

“In a moment,” Combeferre said and stole another kiss, and another one, their kisses slowly growing deeper.

Grantaire forgot that he was ridiculously nervous for a moment, he just concentrated on kissing Combeferre, fingers tangled in his hair to keep him close while Combeferre slowly pushed down against him, making him groan.

“If you change your mind, even if it’s halfway through, just–”

“You think...” Grantaire took a deep breath. “You really think I’m going to change my mind? You seriously...” He trailed off into a moan when Combeferre nipped at his jaw.

“I just want you to know that it would be okay,” Combeferre said and Grantaire really had no idea how he was still so coherent. Well, he knew that that was going to change.

Grantaire only nodded and pulled Combeferre down again, their teeth clacking together. Combeferre laughed lowly, his nose bumping against Grantaire’s. And, okay, this was nice, Combeferre was making it easy for him because he was doing all the hard work. And maybe, only this time, Grantaire would let him.

“Remember what I said to you when we first talked?” Grantaire asked, fingers slowly sneaking down to undo the button of Combeferre’s jeans. “That I’d let you fuck me?”

“But you just said that, didn’t you?” Combeferre mumbled against Grantaire’s neck. “You don’t actually mean the stuff you say to your callers.”

“Well, maybe I didn’t mean it back then,” Grantaire said lowly, “but now...”

Combeferre made a noise that sounded a bit like a suppressed whine, which was exactly what Grantaire wanted to hear.

“Combeferre, please, will you...” Grantaire was interrupted by the kiss that Combeferre planted on his lips.

When he pulled away again, Combeferre was smiling. “Alright, let’s take this to the bedroom.” He pulled Grantaire off the couch and slowly guided him past the coffee table, into the dark hallway, where they stumbled over a pair of Grantaire’s shoes.

“Sorry,” Grantaire muttered, quickly distracted when Combeferre started peeling off his shirt.

Combeferre was down to his boxers by the time they’d made it to Grantaire’s bedroom, Grantaire was still struggling with his jeans.

“Let me help you with these,” Combeferre said, hands wandering down Grantaire’s sides before he dropped to his knees, pulling Grantaire’s jeans down with him. Grantaire was too distracted to worry about the chaotic state of his bedroom, his unmade bed, the stray clothes, the tower of books and magazines next to his bed.

Combeferre smirked up at Grantaire, waited for a moment until Grantaire had smiled back at him, then he got rid of Grantaire’s boxers as well. He planted a kiss at the base of Grantaire’s cock before he moved on to suck at the tip. And, sure, Grantaire wasn’t a teenager anymore, but this was a little too much for him right now and if he let Combeferre go on with this, this whole thing would be over embarrassingly quickly. But Combeferre’s mouth on him also felt too good for him to tell him to stop, so he let him have his way.

“Combeferre, I...” Grantaire’s fingers tangled in Combeferre’s hair. “If you still want to... you should, I mean, I’m...” Combeferre hummed around his cock and that nearly did it for Grantaire. “Jesus fuck, I’m serious.”

Combeferre pulled off with a grin. “Maybe we should postpone our other plans for now. We have all night anyway.”

Grantaire only whined in reply and tugged at Combeferre’s hair. He’d have never thought he’d see the day, but talking wasn’t really working for him anymore. He came shouting something between Combeferre’s name and a bunch of colorful curse words, letting Combeferre guide him over to his bed without a protest.

“Holy shit,” Grantaire mumbled, fingers skimming over the very obvious bulge in Combeferre’s boxers.

Combeferre let out a huff of breath, canting his hips up so Grantaire could pull off his boxers. And then Grantaire paused because he wasn’t quite sure what to do next. Combeferre had certainly known what he was doing. Grantaire leaned in to kiss Combeferre to buy some time, still trying to figure out what to do when Combeferre took his hand and guided it down.

“Okay?” Combeferre asked lowly.

Grantaire hummed and started to jerk Combeferre off, slowly at first, carefully watching his face to figure out what he liked, what made his breath hitch. This was so much better when Grantaire was actually able to see him, head thrown back in a low moan. Afterwards Combeferre was lying in the middle of Grantaire’s bed, a blissful smile on his face.

Seemed like Grantaire hadn’t fucked up completely. He propped himself up on his elbow, peering down at Combeferre. “So...”

“So, that was nice,” Combeferre said. He reached out, fingers trailing down Grantaire’s side.

Grantaire smirked. “Very nice,” he agreed. He let Combeferre pull him back down, face now buried in the crook of Combeferre’s neck and, well, this was nice, too. He wouldn’t mind just staying right there for a while.

Combeferre seemed to feel the same way, because he gave Grantaire a nudge and mumbled, “How about a nap?”

“Nap sounds good,” Grantaire muttered and pulled up the sheets. He didn’t actually fall asleep, though, he was concentrating way too hard on Combeferre’s breathing and on Combeferre’s hand on the small of his back and on how soft Combeferre’s skin was. Grantaire sighed and tried to think of something else, not about how much he liked Combeferre, definitely not about that, because if he kept thinking about it, he might end up saying it out loud.

Grantaire took a closer look at the tattoos on Combeferre’s arm while Combeferre snored quietly to distract himself. Lately he’d managed to convince himself that he was done being anxious about being with Combeferre, but he was proving himself wrong right now.

“Grantaire,” Combeferre mumbled after a while, “you know, I can practically hear you think.”

“I’m just...” Grantaire trailed off, because he didn’t really want to admit that he was nervous about this. Things were going great so far, there was nothing he should be freaking out about.

Combeferre seemed to understand anyway, because he wrapped himself around Grantaire and said, “There’s no rush.” He smiled against Grantaire’s shoulder. “I meant to ask you a while ago... does Joly know about your job, by any chance?”

“He does, yeah,” Grantaire said. “Why?”

“Well, he was the one who gave me the number. For the, um... hotline.”

Grantaire snorted. He wasn’t even surprised. A few weeks after he’d started his job, Joly and Bossuet had called the hotline and had asked for him so he could read the news to them with his best Darth Vader voice. Although– “He couldn’t have known that you’d end up talking to me.”

“I might have told him about you. I just told him that I really liked talking to this R person. He must have realized it was you.”

“You talked to Joly about me?” Grantaire tried to turn around to look at Combeferre, but Combeferre was wrapped around him like an octopus. “What did you tell him?”

“Nothing embarrassing,” Combeferre said. “Just that we talked about stuff and that I liked you. And Joly kept telling me that I should ask you if you wanted to meet up with me. Which I obviously didn’t do. I mean, you would have said no.”

To be honest, Grantaire might have actually said yes. “Who knows. At least now I get why Joly and Bossuet wanted me to go to that reunion with them so badly.”

Combeferre laughed. “Well, I’m glad that you decided to come along.”

“So am I,” Grantaire said, smiling when Combeferre kissed his neck.


End file.
